Cora Clondalkin Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Drogheda

Alright, folks, gather ‘round—here’s the deal. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’ ‘bout whores, y’know, the oldest gig in town. Makes me chuckle, ‘cause—c’mon, man—who doesn’t got a story? Back in Scranton, we had this gal, Mary Lou, swear she was a “lady of the night.” Worked the corner by the old gas station. Folks’d whisper, “She’s trouble,” but—shoot—she was sweet as pie. Gave half her cash to stray dogs. Ain’t that somethin’? Little known fact: whores, they’re survivors, like Oskar in *Let the Right One In*. “Let me in,” she’d say, battin’ those lashes—pure street poetry.

9 things you'll only remember if you grew up in Clondalkin

Suddenly, my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Sean. He’s like, “Meet me at the pub!” Of course, I’m in. I head over to The Green Isle, and it’s packed. Everyone’s buzzing, laughing, and I’m just trying to find Sean. Finally spot him at the bar, downing a pint. Classic Sean.

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